


In the mood to lose my way

by yuletide_archivist



Category: DC Animated Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-17
Updated: 2004-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1632245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie's life is officially kind of weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the mood to lose my way

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Jack

 

 

Richie has a routine to fall back on, these days. He's actually *had* a routine -- even before his brain started doing things without his permission, and before he really *needed* one.

Well, *he* hadn't needed one, but Virgil did. *Static* did. The Big Bang had turned Dakota into the kind of place which needed a superhero as much as Keystone or Metropolis -- if not as much as Gotham -- and superheroes needed (sidekicks) information. This is where he came in -- though, if he's honest with himself, even if Virgil *had* been the kind of person who took detailed notes as a matter of course, and had had the time, skill, and inclination to make up the kind of database Richie had, Richie would've just found something *else* to do for him.

Uniform repair, secret-identity-protecting alibis... anything.

And, yeah, most of the time Richie can tell himself that it's all about the superheroics, and the fact that he was dressing up like Superman before he'd realized that Superman was as real as police officers and firefighters, that it's just something *any* self-respecting fanboy would do -- given half an opportunity and a best friend with superpowers.

Most of the time.

It's just that he *is* only telling himself that, because it's been a long time since he's been able to think about the fact that he really would do almost anything for Virgil as anything but one small, important piece about how he, well, *feels* about Virgil.

It's not something he really talks about -- the only person he *would* talk to about it is Virgil, and, really, *no* -- and it isn't something he really thinks about. There's always something new he can add to Backpack, or something else to add to the Static files, or, well, something else for him to *do*.

Whether it involves being Gear or just being Richie. He's *busy*, and he likes it that way, and Virgil is his best friend in the world, and the closest thing he's ever had to (family) a brother, and, in the end, Virgil likes Daisy and Richie has a very close relationship with his left hand.

He's pretty sure things might change when they're out of high school and it won't be so *huge* that he's walking around with two secrets instead of just one, and he can... well, most of the time he's pretty sure he can wait, especially since the only thing he's really waiting *for* is the ability to *say* some of this stuff to Virgil. Some of it.

He's *been* waiting, after all, and you hardly even notice you're waiting for something if you're busy doing other things. Which he should be -- there *is* a routine. Weird Eddie really *wasn't* just another Bang Baby, after all. He'd made himself into something different, something *weirder*, and now he's stuck living in -- maybe *permanent* -- slow motion, in part because of something *he'd* built. And he definitely needs to think about *that*, and maybe come up with some useful conclusions for the database in case something like this ever happens again.

For when it *does* happen again, because Dakota isn't the same city it was when Richie was a kid.

He should be thinking about that. As opposed to the fact that, on any *other* night, Virgil would be right here helping him out, asking the questions that help every part of Richie's mind *fire*, or maybe just tossing balled-up paper at his head, or practicing with his powers until Richie's hair is standing on end, *all* of it, everywhere, and Richie's earring is stabbing him with small, painless shocks every few minutes, and --

On any other night, Virgil would be here, with him, or maybe they'd be in Virgil's room -- Virgil's computer *looks* ancient, but it has just as many customizations and additions as Richie's own -- but either way, they'd be together.

But it's only ten, and the B2K concert is probably still going on, and it's *Virgil*. He doesn't *have* to be home tonight until midnight -- special dispensation from his father -- and he *won't* be.

Because it's Daisy.

It would be so *much* easier if Virgil had worse taste in girls, as opposed to picking out the one who happens to be beautiful, smart, funny, *and* friendly. She even *dresses* well, and...

And it's one thing to be pathetic, especially with no one around to *see* it. It's another thing to be pathetic and not get anything *done*. If Virgil *does* come back to the station before heading home, the last thing Richie wants him to find is, well, *him*.

Staring at nothing, *doing* nothing, and no closer to having an idea on how to deal with criminals with super-speed than he was when they'd maybe, sort of, possibly *crippled* this one.

Weird Eddie.

He probably shouldn't be thinking of Jimmy so much -- it's not like Eddie was trying to protect himself from bullies or anything.

Except for how it's possible -- really extremely possible -- that maybe all of them should've been thinking of Jimmy -- and people like them -- when they were all basically torturing Eddie in science camp. Richie winces.

Virgil would make thoughts like *that* easier to handle, too. Especially since he'll probably feel just as lousy about it as Richie does, just as soon as Richie puts the thought in his head.

He doesn't want to make Virgil feel lousy. He wants...

He wishes -- really a *lot* -- that he didn't actually *know* what he wanted, because, for once, knowing doesn't help with anything. Not getting this done and *not* with, well. Getting it.

Nothing's really going to help with the latter, but the former... well.

Backpack crawls over when Richie calls -- and, while he still *wants* a dog, Backpack is really, really cool -- and offers the small, black communicator when he taps on the compartment. *He's* really not supposed to have this -- Batman had given it to Static, after all -- and he and Virgil had agreed that they'd only use it in case of horrible apocalyptic emergency -- it's *Batman* -- but.

They're *used* to dealing with speedsters, and with people crazy enough to give themselves superpowers, and possibly just tapping on it like this won't make --

"Static. What's the problem?"

Anything happen. "Er... it's R -- Gear, actually. I... Batman?"

It's really strange to hear snickering coming from nowhere. From the... wait, no. It's coming from *inside* Backpack, and it's a lot less strange when Richie pulls out the Shockbox that they'd somehow tapped *into*. That...

"Um... Robin?"

"Yep. What's the emergency?"

Well, it *sounds* a lot less strange. And... yeah. He's totally talking to Robin. Now is *not* the time to point out that he's pretty much the template for Richie's existence, especially since --

"Gear?"

Right. Thinking. "I -- there's no emergency, really, I just..." His voice was pretty much supposed to *stop* doing that cracking thing two *years* ago. A year ago at the latest.

"Just calling to chat? On a Bat-communicator?"

Robin isn't laughing, but it *sounds* like he might start again any minute. Which, really, is one of the better reactions he could hope for. "Well, I... I mean, there was this... er." He's actually capable of not sounding like an idiot. Really.

"This er...?"

"Eddie Felson. Er... Edward. He stole a machine that let him manipulate... time? It's hard to be sure. It let him move at superspeed, and --"

"Gimme a sec."

"-- sure." Richie waits. He can't actually *hear* anything other than small, thoughtful noises, but -- not for the first time -- he can't quite make himself stop fantasizing about spending an hour with Batman's computers.

*Half* an hour.

Fifteen *minutes* --

"Got it. Speedwarp. You guys caught him -- nice."

Richie blinks. "I... thank you?"

"Heh. You're welcome." It's funny, but Richie thinks he can *hear* Robin smiling. Or possibly smirking. "So what can we do for you?"

Good question. "Well, it's... a little out of our depth? I mean, I don't know which reports you're accessing, but the only way we stopped him..." Richie winces. "It was mostly accidental. I was able to rig up a similar machine for Static to use --"

"Impressive."

Wincing *and* blushing. Wonderful. How does Virgil *do* this? "I -- thank you -- but, well. I'm not actually sure *what* I did -- what *we* did, in terms of the company Eddie stole the gauntlet from -- and now Eddie's... well."

"Hmm... the report I've got here says his heart rate, pulse, breathing... all of it's almost too slow to register as anything but clinical death. Is that about right?"

Richie winces a little more. "He... crossed the streams?"

Robin snickers. Again. "Always a bad idea. So basically you're looking for some input on how to keep this from happening again -- or from happening in a way that nearly gets you guys killed."

"That's... about right. I'm also... well. I'm worried about *Eddie*."

The Shockbox is silent for a moment, and then Richie hears Robin blow out a breath. "Easy to forget you guys are new to this. So many of these people just fuck themselves over without *thinking*... anyway. I'm not sure what I can do to help -- we just don't have that kind of information available -- but..."

Richie blinks. There's... really a *lot* there. "I... well. I didn't mean to bother you. I just thought --"

"Wait, wait, gimme another minute."

Richie waits. He can hear Robin talking to someone -- Batman? -- but he can't actually make out the words.

"Heh. Be there in --"

Richie blinks.

"A Flash! Man, I *never* get tired of that."

Richie blinks again, and pretty much focuses on blinking, because that's *Flash*, and he's got an armful of Robin, except Robin is jumping out of Flash's arms and brushing off his uniform and it's *Flash*.

"Hi, I'm Flash!"

Richie shakes his hand. The material of his gauntlet seems *really* thin, and he's smiling, and Robin is looking around curiously.

They *really* need to clean. And... *Flash*.

*Robin*.

And -- Flash is waving a hand in front of his face. "You okay, man? You look a little --"

"Superhero shell-shock," Robin says with a grin that doesn't seem *entirely* evil.

Richie shakes it off as much as he can and tries on a smile of his own. It feels like it'll shake itself right off his *face*, but... well. "I'm Richie. Gear. Er... hi?" He looks around Flash -- he's *taller* in person, which makes sense because he's always standing next to people like Wonder Woman and Superman, but -- *taller* -- and Robin's leaning against the wall.

And still grinning. "I figured I should call in a specialist."

"That's me!" Flash says.

Specialist. Right. Okay... he can focus. He can absolutely focus. "I... there was... well, Weird Eddie..." Robin is doing a handstand.

Robin is... grinning at him more. "I filled Flash in."

"He called himself 'Weird Eddie?' Man, I thought *Amazo* was bad."

Maybe if he did a breathing exercise or something. Except for how he doesn't know any breathing exercises. "Uh -- actually that was his name. His nickname. Only he didn't pick it. I -- well. He's..." Walking toward Richie. On his hands. Robin is. "Er."

Robin flips back onto his feet and shoves lightly in front of Flash before putting his hands on Richie's shoulders.

Some ridiculously useless part of his mind is wondering what *Robin's* gauntlets are made of. The rest of him is just kind of staring. Wonderful.

"Take it easy, Gear. Suit up and lead us to the prison."

He's not suited *up*, oh Jesus --

Robin shakes him. Lightly. And grins more. "I figure Flash will poke at him a little, and even if we *don't* figure anything out, we can always ship our data to the League."

Which makes perfect sense. All right then. He'll just -- the rush of air nearly knocks him off his stool, and Flash is holding both his uniform and one of Virgil's spares.

"Sleeveless? Really? Does that work better for you?"

Richie frowns. "Um..."

Robin shakes him again. "The trick is to only try to answer *half* the questions."

Richie blinks, and Flash is... he doesn't know where Flash is. Richie shakes it off -- again -- and focuses on putting on his suit the right way. He manages to get the helmet snapped into place -- and he's *really* going to work to make it more secure, because, God, Eddie had taken it *off* him -- before Flash gets back.

"Found the prison!"

"Good, Flash. Wait for us."

Flash nods and grins. "Sure. Hey, Gear, are there any good pizza places around here?"

Which, in retrospect, was an entirely sensible question to ask. He hadn't exactly gotten the time to *talk* to Eddie -- no one had -- but, as it happens, he'd stolen nearly as much *food* as jewelry.

Possibly he would've been eating the way Flash is right now -- chewing too fast to see and surrounded by empty pizza boxes. He'd picked up an extra cheese pie for him and Robin to share, and Richie wonders what the guards will think the next time they come up to the roof.

Possibly guards who work in prisons packed full of supervillains are used to this sort of thing.

Certainly *Robin* seems to be.

"No pepperoni? No sausage?"

Flash swallows something that looked -- in the half-second before it disappeared -- to be about the size of a brick, and shrugs. "Hey, I didn't know if Gear was a vegetarian or not. Are you?"

Vegetarian. Okay. "Um... no. But... thank you."

Flash grins at him. "You're welcome! Should I get another pie? They really have great sausage."

"They... well. It's home-made." At some point, Richie is going to have to take some notes about how long a teenaged male can maintain a blush without passing out. His hypotheses were all wrong.

"Good deal," Flash says around another mouthful -- Richie *thinks* he says -- and Robin reaches out -- really very slowly -- and sets a gauntlet on top of Flash's last pizza. "Hmm?"

"You *could* just share, Flash."

"I... um..." Flash licks sauce from the corner of his mouth.

Richie should definitely not be thinking about that. Or about the way Robin's smiling. "You *have* enough," Robin says, and drags one finger over the box.

Flash looks at the pizza, and at Robin, and back at the pizza, and -- it's too fast to tell. "But..."

Robin snickers and leans back -- all the way, until he's on his elbows and his legs are stretched out in front of him. "Take that one with you when you go to bring us *another* one."

"I can do that."

And Flash is gone, just that quickly, and Richie is sitting on the roof of Foucault Correctional surrounded by empty pizza boxes and next to Robin, who probably wasn't hitting on the Flash.

"God, he's cute."

Except for how he totally was. "Um." Totally and completely... "Robin?"

Robin wipes his mouth with his gauntlet, and licks the sauce off his finger. "I mean, he's almost certainly a virgin, and he kind of makes *me* feel, like, *ancient*, but... cute."

"I..."

"Though not as cute as Static. Where *is* he tonight?"

The nice thing about wearing a helmet with a visor is that he's pretty sure he won't *lose* his eyes if they actually fall out of his head.

Which is an increasingly likely event, considering the fact that Robin is... it's a Look. There should definitely be capital letters there. Although Robin *could* just be waiting for him to use his mouth for talking, as opposed to, well, gaping.

"Um. On a date. Actually."

"At that arena we passed. The concert?"

Richie blinks. "Well, I..."

Robin smirks. "You were staring so hard I thought you were going to smack into that Zesti billboard."

Right. He was trained by *Batman*. The world's greatest *detective*. "I... guess I was... obvious."

Robin rests his weight on one elbow and punches him lightly with his other hand. "Don't worry about it. Civilization will hit Dakota *eventually*."

There's a part of him that really wants to *protest* that, but... really *not* against someone who lives in Gotham. And gets speedster rides from the Flash.

"Sometimes I think there should be something for *us*. The younger ones. Because as great as it is hanging with Batman, and whichever Leaguers I'm allowed to play with *this* month..." Robin snorts and shakes his head. "Going back to high school is serious culture lag. There's Batgirl and Nightwing, but... really just *not* the same thing."

He has a point. "You have a point. Um." He's really supposed to be smarter than this. All the tests said so.

"Which is just to say..." And Robin grins at him again. "Even if we *don't* get anything useful out of this trip, I'm glad you called."

Richie smiles ruefully. "I think I can manage to be more entertaining once my brain stops spinning."

*This* grin is slow and knowing and entirely right for someone who could be either fourteen or forty, depending on the look on his face. "Don't worry about it, Gear. I'm *used* to people needing a little time to get used to *me*."

"I'm... really not shocked."

"Uh, huh. So how right am I about the *fact* that you're doing Standard Sidekick Mope Number Four: 'My partner won't jerk me off in the shower?'"

Richie chokes. A little. "You're... not wrong. Is this... I mean... there's a reason you get it, I take it?"

The sound Robin makes is somewhere between a laugh and a hum, and he's staring up at the stars.

There's probably more of them visible here than in Gotham. A part of Richie's mind immediately starts trying to work out *which* ones are new -- or relatively new -- to Robin, but it's really pointless. Robin's probably been to the *Watchtower*.

"He's got scars. He's *covered* in scars. When he's naked, his skin is just this... this fucking *map*. Everything he's seen, everywhere he's been, everyone he's fought, everyone's he's *beaten*."

"I... wow."

"Yeah," Robin says, and this laugh is a little clearer. "We've got about two minutes before the new pizza is done and about two minutes and ten seconds before Flash is back here. Now's a good time to spit out *your* embarrassing observations."

His hair. His hands. His *laugh* -- "I don't know where to *start*."

One of Robin's canines is crooked -- slightly. "That bad, hunh?"

Richie smiles ruefully and stares at his gauntlets. "I think I might have *not* been in love with him at some point, but... he's been my best friend forever."

Robin shakes his head again. "I can't decide if that would be wonderful or torture."

"Yes."

Robin snickers and bounds to his feet, rubbing at his stomach with one hand and rolling his other arm in a rough shoulder stretch. For some reason, it makes it really obvious how much *shorter* he is than... pretty much every other hero, ever.

"Is Flash on his way back...?"

"Hm? No. Chances are, he's flirting with whoever's behind the counter at that pizza place."

"I'm not sure how Tony will feel about that."

Robin grins and rocks a little on his feet. "Well. You never know, now do you?"

"Apparently not," Richie says, and starts stacking the pizza boxes. And stops. "I... um."

"Ask."

"I mean... I don't even know *what* I want to ask. When you knew, and who *else* you know who's... or if you like girls at all, or when this is going to make *sense*..." Richie shrugs and checks his mental clock -- he's pushing an hour with one continuous blush. Maybe this means he has super-not-stroke-having powers.

And Robin just looks at him for a long moment.

"I know, it's not --"

"It wasn't really knowing. I just... knew what I *wanted*. I started *taking* it before I started thinking, if that makes any sense to you."

Not really, but he can go with it. "Okay..."

Robin looks back over his shoulder and then drops into a crouch in front of him. "Like I said; I think Flash is a virgin. But I also wouldn't be *surprised* if he wound up just a little gay."

Richie snorts. "Is that like being a little pregnant?"

Robin's expression is only blank if you don't look at his mouth. If you *do* look at his mouth...

"Um."

"For *that* matter, I happen to enjoy the occasional visit to Metropolis. And not for the clean streets."

"*Jeez* --"

"And then there's Wonder Woman, and, well. The *unofficial* name of her home is 'Paradise Island.' Which would be a shame, if it didn't lead to such nice imagery," Robin says, and... waves his hand.

"I... oh. You're... bi?"

Robin shrugs.

"Okay, but..."

"Put it this way -- the first people I knew other than my parents, really *knew*, were Batman, Batgirl, Nightwing, and the other people in Batman's life. Trying to put it into words just doesn't *work*. Have you *seen* pictures of Batgirl?"

"I like the boots."

"The boots are great. There's a blade in the left heel."

"That seems... really practical."

Robin nods. "Especially against Ivy. All those *vines*... but anyway. I can't tell you when it's going to make sense, because your *superpower* is thinking and mine really isn't. Maybe you'll tell *me* one day, you know?"

"I'd... I'd like that."

And Robin tilts his head and smiles at him. It manages to be both softer *and* sharper than the other smiles, enough so that Richie is wondering what it might *mean*, but since Robin is kissing him before he can even ask the question fully in his own mind, the point seems moot.

Robin's lips are soft and that crooked canine scrapes over Richie's lower lip and he tastes like pizza. And his hair is spiked and thin and wrong and scratchy and --

"Mmm. Nice," Robin says, and bites Richie's lip before pulling back. And twisting his head away from Richie's hands.

When *did* he put his hands in Robin's hair. "Uh..."

"You haven't done that before."

"Not..." With a guy. For real. With -- "No."

Robin tilts his head the other way, and the smile on his face looks a lot like the ones Richie feels on his own in his dreams. "Practicing one's skills is important in our line of work, Gear."

"I'm a firm believer in... practice."

"Heh. Oh, yeah?"

And Robin's leaning in again -- *he's* leaning in again -- and Richie wonders if he should lick his lips or *not*, and he smells the fresh pizza just before Flash's wake comes close to knocking him off the roof.

Robin catches him.

"Whoops, sorry. Hey, Tony says hi."

Robin gives him a look.

"Static and I get hungry on patrol."

Robin gives him another *Look*. "I bet." And then he turns to Flash. "Why don't you tell the warden we're here?"

Flash frowns. "We're not eating?"

"It'll be here when we're finished. Even better cold, right?"

"Ooh, *yeah*," Flash says, and reaches under his mask for... a communicator?

"League toys," Robin says, when he notices the question on Richie's face. "Every prison with super-powered inmates has a line to the League. Whether they want it or not."

"Have you been to the Tower?"

Robin grins. "Not *enough*."

"Okay, they should know to expect us. I'm doing the talking, right?"

"Good question." Robin looks back over his shoulder at Richie. "Do they know you guys here, or...?"

That's a *really* good question. But... "Probably not. We just give 'em to the police."

Robin nods. "Then lead the way, Flash."

Flash takes two pieces of the new pizza with him, but he still probably looks more official than Robin does. And a lot more than *he* does. He should probably make the visor darker, or at least learn how to control his expressions.

The guard -- probably -- doesn't lead them through one of the nastier parts of the prison in order to get to the Warden's office, but it's nasty *enough*. Some of the electronic restraints on these guys are making Backpack twitchy, even though Backpack's attachments are frankly better than ninety percent of what's here.

It's more than a little reassuring when Robin frowns and pulls what *looks* like a sensor box out of a pocket of his belt and hits a few buttons.

"Probably the ambient e-m," he says, and Robin gives him an approving nod and it's completely okay to be a dork for that.

Even if he *does* know how Robin kisses now, and... whoa. Yeah. Probably not a good idea to be thinking about *that* in a prison.

Somewhere at his shoulder, or maybe just in front of him, there's a place where Virgil should be so they can share a look and maybe snicker and then glare at each other until they stop.

Instead, there's Robin and the Flash.

His life is officially kind of weird.

He hangs back in the shadows with Robin when Flash gives the Warden the situation, and the man seems just as flustered as he should be -- which is *also* reassuring. Even though he has the same guard lead them down to where they're keeping Eddie, so they wind up trailing through what's either Maximum Security or a darn good impression of same.

Backpack clutches him, long since trained to respond to this level of e-m (and, possibly, Richie's own heart rate) with the 'reflex' of holding on tight just in case some gorilla decides to see if Richie will bounce when he hits a wall.

Robin strokes his belt.

It's both better and worse when they actually get to Eddie. He's in the cell closest to the infirmary, which means it's quieter, but he's still in pretty much the exact position he was in when he and Static had given him to the DPD, hours later. Not quite the same -- his eyes are half-closed.

He's trying to blink.

"Been like that since we got 'im here," the guard says. "Docs don't know *what* his problem is." The guard gives them a different sort of Look. "Don't suppose *you* do."

"That's what we're here to find out," Robin says -- in a completely different voice than what Richie has come to think of as his normal one. *This* voice is earnest and... well, the *guard* seems to find it soothing.

Or maybe just mollifying.

"Then I'll leave you all to it. The call button is right there --" It's big, and red, and looks sturdy enough to handle a medium-range energy blast. " -- but I don't guess you'll be needing it."

"Thanks," Flash says, and offers his hand for shaking.

The guard does so, looking frankly bemused, and then Robin pulls something else from his belt and aims it at the control panel. "Ready?"

Ready. Just in case Eddie is faking. Richie doesn't know if he hopes Eddie's faking or *not*. He nods, and Flash cracks his knuckles.

"Should I go in alone? Just at first?"

Robin frowns and strokes the box in his hand. "Yes. We'll be watching." It sounds like as much of a threat against Flash as a promise, but Flash just gives them both the thumbs-up and zips into the cell as soon as Robin... hm.

"What *did* you do to the locks?"

"Lock, singular. The League *also* has the security codes for the prisons. Just in case." And then he runs his gauntlet over the force-field. "I wonder if this is soundproof," he says, in a slightly louder-than-normal voice.

"Hunh?" Flash stops in front of the field and puts a hand to his ear.

"Mostly, I'd guess," Richie says, and watches Flash shake his head.

Robin waves a hand at him in a gesture that clearly means 'it's not important.'

And then Flash nods and starts... moving.

The only thing *not* bolted down in the cell are the sheets, and, after a moment, they rip themselves off the bed and smack against the field.

"What's he doing?"

"At a guess?" Robin shrugs. "No idea. He's the only speedster the League has gotten a chance to study, and even Batman's files aren't that good."

Richie frowns and watches the sheets wind and jerk their way around the cell. "He doesn't seem very... secretive."

Robin snorts. "Hang with him for another couple of hours and you'll know his name, Social Security number, address, and the name of his prom date. 'Secretive' isn't the problem. *He's* not sure how he got those powers, and is, apparently, still learning the extent of everything he can do."

"And I thought 'mystery chemical spill with random mutagenic tendencies' was disturbing and frustrating."

The smirk is a little cold. "Welcome to the world of the supers, Gear."

And it's... it's hard to credit, like this. Sure, when he's with Virgil, and they're not dealing with anyone but the Dakota natives, it all kind of makes sense -- he's one of a community of people who aren't entirely human. Who... *do* things that other people just can't, even if it's just a matter of thinking really well, really quickly.

But Robin *isn't*, technically, one of them at all.

And is, apparently, incredibly aware of it. Even though Richie can't tell exactly what that awareness means.

After a little too long, Robin turns away again, and it's something of a relief to go back to watching Flash. And...

Well, his *body* isn't moving. He's holding a hand over Eddie's sternum and the entire arm from the elbow down is moving too fast to focus on. And then Flash moves to touch Eddie's throat, and Eddie's thigh, and, weirdly, the top of his head.

"Still no clue," Robin says, before he can ask.

"Got it."

Flash repeats the process, and then stops, and taps his foot. For a second, it's just normal tapping, and then it's vibration.

"He looks... pretty frustrated."

Robin makes a small, non-committal noise and doesn't look at him.

"I... this is probably..." Richie winces. But Robin is tensed up under the cape -- he knows how that looks from Virgil's coats. "Did I piss you off, at some point?"

Robin tenses even more for a second, and then relaxes just as obviously. And smiles ruefully at Richie from over his shoulder. "No. Just... thinking."

"Okay...?"

"High school is culture shock. So's this. In some ways." His voice is quiet and a little low.

Richie isn't sure what to say to that.

"It's not about you."

It's about Batman, and the League, and... everything else Richie isn't sure he *wants* to know about Gotham. He settles for nodding, and glances back at Flash. Who is... well, he's pretty much poking Eddie.

"Sorry about that," Robin says, and his voice is back to normal -- mostly.

"No, it's okay. I was just... wondering."

Robin smirks at him and leans -- it's pretty much a controlled fall -- against the wall beside Eddie's cell. "Wondering, hm? *I* was wondering a few things."

It's an invitation to change the subject. Possibly an *order* to change the subject, and he knows what Robin's tongue feels like in his mouth, but that doesn't mean he really has the right to call him on it. So... He gives Robin a smile of his own. "Like?"

"Well..." Robin reaches up and tugs on one of the spikes of his hair, breaking the layer of product and tugging it down to hang over his forehead. To... bob, a little. Like...

Oh. "Heh. I..." He's pretty sure he *wasn't* blushing for at least twenty minutes. Clearly he was due.

"What do they feel like?"

Richie knows what Robin's asking. And he's... well. He's thought about it *enough*. "They're rough. Scratchier than they look. Like... like maybe they'll itch, a little, if he... er."

Robin hums a little and rubs a thumb back and forth over one thigh. Black on red. Richie blinks and looks up and... well, Robin's wearing a *mask*, but Richie's still pretty sure he's raising an eyebrow.

It's a question. "Uh... yeah. There."

Robin smiles. "Hmm."

"And there's... his power." Richie swallows, and glances up to see Flash chafing at Eddie's arms. It's probably a good thing that they haven't taken him out of his homemade suit -- Flash's hands are, again, moving too fast to see.

"His power...?"

Robin's look is sort of... casually curious. Richie's pretty sure the casual is kind of a lie, but this... it feels like payment to say this, an exchange that he'd missed out on when they were still on the roof.

And it also just feels... really *good*. Because this stuff isn't even in his *journal*. Virgil reads his journal sometimes, after all.

"It's... when he uses it a lot, you can feel it. In the air and all around you, and... especially when you're in an enclosed space. Like --"

"Your gas station."

Richie reaches up to scrub a hand through his hair and manages -- barely -- not to jab himself in the visor. "I... yeah."

"That must be..." Robin shifts a little in a way that almost looks accidental. And smiles a little more. "Interesting."

Richie grins. "Yeah, it is."

"Your earring is stainless steel. I'm guessing it *used* to be a less conductive metal?"

He bites his lip. "Gold, actually. But... yeah. Steel is... better."

Robin's gaze sweeps down over his suit -- no. Over his body. Looking for...

Oh. Jeez. "I don't have anything... else. Uh."

"Yet."

Which is... yeah. Richie smiles a little more. "I can't say I haven't thought about it."

"Keep --"

Flash is knocking on the wall beside the force-field.

"Thinking," Robin says, and opens it up again for Flash.

Eddie is still... well, his eyes are closed now, at least. "Did you find anything?"

"It's the weirdest thing *ever*. He's alive, and he's... I can usually speed people *up*, you know?" Flash is frowning and jittering, a little, in a way that doesn't actually look nervous at all.

Robin frowns. "Speed them up...?"

"Hunh? Oh, not give them powers or anything, but... like, I can make your skin hotter, and your heart beat faster. Just by... you know. *Moving* you."

Richie nods. It makes sense. But... "You couldn't with Eddie?"

"No! He's just... he's... it's like I wasn't touching him at *all*, even when I *was* moving him. Like there's something... *over* him, or around him, or..." Flash turns and zips back to the force field and *looks*. "You guys can't see anything, right?"

Robin shakes his head. "No, but then we wouldn't if it was... some sort of aura."

"Aura! Yes! Like... doesn't Superman have one of those?" Flash is looking at both of them, back and forth and back, but it's not like *he* knows.

"It seems to be... theoretical," Robin says, after a moment. "No one has ever been able to measure it, or detect it. As opposed to noticing its -- probable -- effects."

"You guys think Eddie's trapped inside something? Wrapped up in... some sort of solid cloak of..." What was that word Dr. McDonald had used? "Hypertime?"

Flash nods and frowns at Eddie. "Bagged up like an egg salad sandwich, Gear. And what's hypertime? I'm not qualified for this, unless I *should* just bang him against a wall a few times."

Robin snorts quietly. "Maybe we could wait on that. Gear?"

"I... I don't really *know*. It's how Eddie referred to it when he slowed everyone else down. Like... like maybe *he* wasn't moving that quickly at all." Richie frowns more. "I've *read* everything on this I could get my hands on. I can duplicate it, but I can't really... it doesn't *connect* to anything else."

"Hmm." Robin chews on his gauntlet a little. "Atom?"

Flash shrugs and knocks rapidly on the force-field. "I *guess*. I think he'd like a break from all that stuff Bats gave him on parallel dimensions."

"Er..."

"Different case," Robin says to him and chews on his gauntlet a little more before shaking his head and straightening and... moving away from the cell. "Well. We know more than we *did*, a little."

It's not like he'd really expected them to *fix* this, except... except he really had. Richie nods and looks at the floor.

Robin puts his hand on his shoulder. "We'll keep working on it. And I think Atom is going to want to talk to you, just in general."

He can't decide if it's better or not that the idea of one day getting a phone call from the Atom so they can share notes is just kind of... there. Somewhere next to -- and dwarfed by -- the fact that Weird Eddie is... bagged up like an egg salad sandwich. Richie swallows and forces himself to smile at Robin. "Thanks."

He turns to share it with Flash, and Flash smiles back at him, sunny and... no, sunny is pretty much the word for it, right there. "Pizza?"

And Robin frowns at Flash, and it's a really *serious* frown, but he stops when Richie covers his gauntlet with his own. "Pizza's good."

He gets two slices, Robin gets one, and Flash gets the rest. He makes apologetic noises around his mouthfuls, and Robin hands him the cheese pizza they hadn't finished without a word.

At eleven-forty-five, the alarm goes off in Backpack. The others probably can't *hear* it, but they can definitely see the way Backpack's arms kind of tap at him.

"You have to go?"

Robin's looking at Backpack like he wants to take it apart. Not in a *mean* way or anything, just in a way that seems... really familiar. And then he looks at *Richie*, and, right. Sitting on the roof of a prison and chatting with superheroes and he's fine. He's had hours to get used to this.

"Well, I... *I* have about an hour, but..."

Robin nods in a completely innocent way and smirks in a way that really just *isn't*. "Time to hook up with Static?"

*Past* time, and he's not saying that out loud. He doesn't have to -- Robin is smirking in a way that just really wouldn't work if Flash wasn't focused on the pizza again. "Yeah," he says.

"Tell him I said hi," Flash says. "And ask him about the sleeveless thing for me."

"It really wouldn't work for you, Flash. The friction would be... unbearable." Robin's rubbing at his thigh again.

"You're probably right," Flash says. "Still, it *looks* cool."

"Shows off the arms really well," Robin says, and he's *still* rubbing at his thigh and --

"Yeah, see, I *like* my uniform, but sometimes it gets *hot*."

Richie doesn't choke. "I... um. I'll... see you?"

Robin grins wider. "Yeah. You will."

It's a lot easier to just smile back at Flash, and wave back, too, but he can still *feel* Robin's eyes on him as he takes off from the roof.

And as he flies back -- especially because he *does* stop by the Coliseum even though he knows Virgil wouldn't still be there, and also by the ice cream shop even though he wouldn't really want to *see* Virgil if he was there, because he'd still be with Daisy.

He isn't.

He *is* in his own bedroom, leaning out of the window and waving Richie in quickly. He smells like smoke and sweat and he's smiling so broadly it kind of hurts.

"That concert was the *bomb*, Richie!"

"Do you at least feel *guilty* for not taking me?"

Virgil laughs and punches his shoulder. "Maybe if *you* had the B2K shrine over your bed..."

Richie smiles, a little. "Maybe. I... I called Robin."

Virgil's eyes are wide and brown and shocked. It makes all the time he spent blushing tonight just a little worth it.

"About Eddie."

"About... oh. Man. Could they... did Batman know how to *fix* him?"

"I didn't --" He hears Virgil's father's footsteps on the stairs, and both of them wait silently until they can hear his door close. "I didn't talk to Batman, actually. Robin called in the *Flash*."

"You were hanging with Robin and the Flash tonight? And you're complaining about missing the *concert*?"

Virgil's gotten really *good* at yelling at him in a whisper. They've both gotten good at it, and... tonight's just really *not* a good night for staying on topic within his own head. Still though... "We had pizzas. On the roof of Foucault." Richie gives Virgil his best smirk. "Apparently, the Atom is going to call me."

Virgil's mouth hangs open for a moment, and another.

"Also? Robin thought the belt I came up with for you was *impressive*. I'm quoting. In case you couldn't tell."

"You *suck*!"

Richie grins. "No, my friend, I believe it would be more accurate to say I *rule*."

And there's no *way* Virgil's dad is already asleep, and Sharon is probably still awake, too, but there's also no way Richie can make Virgil *stop* when he tackles him to the floor, even though they're just rolling around and punching each other not very hard.

"Robin and I also -- ow -- bonded over my *tech*. By the -- ha, *stop* -- way."

"God, I can't *believe* you, Richie! You just *called* him? Out of the blue?"

And Virgil doesn't sound angry or anything -- Richie can *always* tell -- but... still. "Well, it's not like *we* knew what to do about Eddie."

"I... *man*." Virgil bangs his head against Richie's chest a few times. Richie can't really *feel* his hair through the suit.

He wants to.

"But they fixed it, right? They know what happened?"

Richie sighs, and doesn't reach up to pull on Virgil's dreds. "Well... no, actually. Hence the apparent future phone-call from the Atom. Flash thinks there's some kind of aura... thing. Around Eddie now."

Virgil sighs and just rests on top of him for a moment -- not long enough -- before he gets up and sits on the bed. "I just... do you think they *will* fix it? I mean, Eddie's a *freak*, but he still doesn't deserve *that*."

Richie sits up and rests his head against the side of Virgil's mattress. And leans forward to pull off his helmet before trying again. "I don't know. I mean, the Atom's supposed to be one of the smartest people in the world, so --"

"*You're* one of the smartest people in the world, Richie," and Virgil slaps at his hair.

Richie swallows and looks at his knees and *copes*. "I'm not in the *League*, V-man."

Virgil sighs again and Richie can hear him flopping back on his bed. His hand is still in Richie's hair.

"I think they'll fix it," Richie says, and focuses on not leaning back into Virgil's touch too much.

"I hope so."

There's this thing Virgil does when he's not thinking about it. This *way* of touching Richie that's all about rubbing at his skin and combing through his hair with his fingers and it's pretty much the sad little hook that Richie's been hanging this *thing* on for years.

Because maybe, just maybe, *Virgil* hasn't figured it out, yet.

What *Richie* has known since before he was really sure about *why* he wanted Virgil's hands on him in the first place.

"You've gotta get home pretty soon, hunh?"

Richie nods, and shivers a little at the short scratch of Virgil's nails on his scalp. "Curfew's still one."

Virgil makes a small, annoyed sound and moves his hand, and Richie listens to the mattress creak. Virgil's turning over, and... yes. His *other* hand is in Richie's hair, now. And he doesn't say anything, and Richie *shouldn't* -- he *knows* this feeling, and what it's like to spend all night thinking about this, and wanting this, and how it makes him say *stupid* things, and *obvious* things, but...

"I could probably swing permission for a sleepover..." Tomorrow. "This weekend. I mean... were you going out with Daisy again?"

"Hunh?" Virgil sounds half-asleep. "Oh, man, *Daisy*. God, she can dance."

She really can. Richie waits for Virgil's hand to stop moving in his hair and then stands up, heading for the open window.

"Mmph. Did you say this weekend, Richie...?"

The thing about wearing the gauntlets is that you can't really tell unless you're looking *closely* if you're gripping something -- like, say, the window frame -- hard enough to hurt. "Yeah. If you want."

Virgil yawns, and turns enough to grin at him. "Yeah, man. Come over. Maybe I'll call up my good buddy Green *Lantern*."

Richie snickers. "Yeah, *right*."

"Hey, he *owes* me."

Richie grins. "Night, V-man."

Another yawn. "Night, Richie..."

There isn't really enough time to swing by the garage to ditch his uniform unless he keeps the skates, which would pretty much defeat the purpose.

Still, he's really pretty good at climbing trees quietly, and he hasn't locked his window since the first time Virgil had shown up one Saturday afternoon (when Richie's father was working overtime) with a stack of comics and a smile on his face.

Years.

Once inside, he reflexively toggles Backpack to do a quick scan of the house. His parents are both firmly in the ninety-eight to ninety-nine point eight degree range and not moving. He's pretty golden, even though the taste of pizza in his mouth makes him think about Robin's tongue and *that* makes him think about what his father would say -- how he'd *look* -- and... no.

Really no.

He brushes his teeth thoroughly and stashes the uniform in the box he keeps behind his box of older comics, both of which are under the bed.

He has study hall first period tomorrow, and he still has reading to do, and rubbing his head against the pillow is nothing like being touched, at all.

But he can *tell* himself it is, and that's good enough.

end.

 

 

 


End file.
